He managed to make it his fault! I know, I know, no lead is insurmountable, blah blah blah Chennai cakes. You also cannot win a match if you do not bowl your opponent out! This is the rule! Make them follow on! Declare earlier! He had both of these options and he took neither.

That Test was in the bag, man! I am sick of England snatching embarrassing draws from the slavering jaws of victory.

Stuart Broad is still cute and he played well, for those of you keeping score at home. There are however no sufficiently cute photos for me to post.

Coming soon: the inevitable continuation of my fight with England cricket, thoughts on baseball, and observations on Israeli athletes.

Like this:

Last time, he had recently hit a century. This time, he also hit a century, his eighth in Test matches.

Somehow, in the intervening time, the prevailing opinion had once again turned to the “Paul Collingwood only ever hits respectable totals when his place is in danger” side of things. In two months. When everyone else stank way more.

Seriously, people? I never claimed, nor did anyone else, that he should open the batting. I never claimed, nor did anyone else, that he is the greatest batsman of all time. But he’s a good man to have in your side. It might not be pretty, but he’s not stupid and once he hits his stride he’ll score you some runs. And, to put the question baldly, whom would you rather have? England is not over-burdened with truly great cricketers at the moment.

Also, straight up, apparently he is five foot eleven. I had always been convinced he was a gnome. And this is why.

Two cute for the price of one!

He looks minuscule! If you forget that Stuart Broad is nine feet tall….

Like this:

Well, fair play to you, Straussy. 169 is a respectable total and I’m sorry I ever said unkind things or suggested you aren’t much of a leader. If England lose this one, I can say, without any reservations at all, unless you somehow make Alistair Cook bowl and put him at first slip, that it will not be your fault.

Still not cute, but very keen.

So we’re in a bit of a sporting drought. The tennis in Rotterdam is over, and Nadal’s knee might be slightly busted. Pitchers and catchers have reported, but there aren’t any games yet. There is no football at all. For months. And months. Atlético drew today, but at least Forlán’s scoring again. United are through in the FA Cup, for massive sporting surprises. I hear there’s basketball, and NASCAR, and hockey? Thoughts?

Like this:

Yeah, yeah, I know you know this. It’s just that after every major tennis tournament (except Roland Garros, owing to its beautiful proximity to the Championships), one faces a bleak expanse of tennisless time, punctuated by boring, anti-climactic minor tournaments that are generally won by people whose names I can’t pronounce.

Also? Australia is in a totally stupid place. If it were a couple more hours ahead or behind, my sleep schedule would be intact. But no, it has to be sixteen hours ahead, so matches start at 3:30 am. Thanks, Australia.

And yes, before you ask, it is and was totally worth it. I watched minor matches, I watched the final, I watched Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal turn it on and off with appalling and inhuman ease, and I did not watch Mr. Federer’s post-match interview because I have issues with not crying.

Kit says she wants Mr. Federer to tear through Roland Garros and destroy Mr. Nadal in the final and I would so love to see that. I love watching Mr. Nadal win. I love watching Mr. Federer win. I love watching them both play tennis and I would be so pleased if Mr. Federer rounds out his Grand Slam titles. Pete Sampras’s record would be a nice bonus, of course; but I, at least, will still remember Mr. Federer as the greatest player I have ever seen.

His reputation is helped by his never looking like a buffoon. He may have worn tuxedo stripes on his black tennis shorts, which is hilarious and strange, but somehow appropriate. But he does not wear a pectoral stripe that accentuates the monstrous over-development of his playing shoulder, and he does not wear shorts with little dots on them. Or that charming color we know so well as “vomit green.”